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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22379608">Did You Count?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adeline_Hatter/pseuds/Adeline_Hatter'>Adeline_Hatter</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Friends to Enemies to Lovers is Very Very Sexy [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Evil Schemes, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Gen, I love you but I also hate you but I also love you, Kisses, Leads on from Sleepless but you don't have to have read sleepless to read this one, Multi, Overdramatic Bitch, POV The Master (Doctor Who), Post Missy, Post-Episode: s12e01-02 Spyfall, Post-Episode: s12e04 Nikola Tesla's Night of Terror, Telepathy, Texting, That's not an official tag and it should be Ao3, The Master Has Issues, The Master is basically a Chaotic Neutral at this point, The Master works for the British Government, plot convience, timelords</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 15:42:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,633</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22379608</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adeline_Hatter/pseuds/Adeline_Hatter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When one impersonates a British Agent, there are bound to be two things. </p><p>Trouble and Time. </p><p>And The Master finds himself with a lot of it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Friends to Enemies to Lovers is Very Very Sexy [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1609696</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>200</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Did You Count?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I WROTE THIS IN LIKE A DAY BUT HAVE IT ANYWAY.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> One… Two.. Three…  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t know why this is his first stop upon reclaiming his TARDIS. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Four… Five… Six…  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Smoke doesn’t rise, no, he did this years ago, the city lies dismantled but all he can think about is how they deserved it. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Seven… Eight….  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>No, that was a lie… He can’t help but think about how this is her fault, he made her care, he made her see the scales of justice that tipped back and forth when he… When he was <em> Missy.  </em></p><p> </p><p>There is no face between the two of them, there isn’t. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Nine…  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He’s never felt shame quite like this before, looking at the barely held together buildings, the sent of ashes still on the wind under the red skies. </p><p> </p><p>The glass is smashed all over the ground and he finds it strangely satisfying. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Ten…  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He’s not counting, why would he count anything? </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Eleven… Twelve…  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He’s not, he wouldn’t… She would though, wouldn’t she- Hadn’t she recited a number at him once when she was a man?</p><p> </p><p>“Thirteen.” He mumbles aloud and turns around to find his TARDIS, “Fourteen, fifteen.” It’s only to keep that thumping at the back of his head at bay, “Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen.” </p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t know why he’s counting, but the guilt grows with each number. </p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>The woman who takes his photo smiles at him and flutters her lashes, but he ignores her, he ignores the men looking him up and down as he thinks about the perfect words, the sentence that would make his comeback worth it and cause her to reply immediately. </p><p> </p><p>So he decides on three little words. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I lived bitch.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor, predictably has her read receipts off, but that’s okay, he can wait… A little while. </p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>He did not dive across the space of his TARDIS as such, he was redecorating since ‘Outback Shack’ was no longer in style and he needed a new snazzy place to make up for his next plan. </p><p> </p><p>So, he was just a little far away from it when it went off, no other reason for the sudden flail across the console room for the human contraption, not even because it was that strike of guitar that he’d made the ringtone for her when she’d still been scottish. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Six thousand, five hundred and forty-two.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>His mind echoed it at him uninvited then kept going up as he picked up the phone to find, displayed on the screen a photograph of her, in her TARDIS in goggles and a bigass grin on her face as she reported. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I MET TESLA! HOW’S THAT FOR YOU?  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She never changed did she?</p><p>
  <b>Remind me to scratch his eyes out. </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Don’t you dare.  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>He sets his phone down, this is what happens when he goes too long without an evil scheme, satisfied for the moment with her clear annoyance and attention, he’s about to go back to redecorating when his phone beeps again. </p><p> </p><p><em> That being said, if you wanted to take a pop at Edison, as long as it didn’t mess with the timeline too much… I wouldn’t </em> exactly <em> stop you.  </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Dangerous words, Doctor. </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Forget I ever said them.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Never.</b>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>There’s this little touch of cocky swagger that comes through the woman in front of him as she sits down at the table with him in the small cafe, he was resistant to a lot of things but a good slice of victoria sponge was not one of them. </p><p> </p><p>Her long dark hair tumbled over her, some locks over her shoulder, the rest of it pushed down her back, an earring visible on the right ear, she smiled at him with lips painted a pure crimson colour. </p><p> </p><p>“Good afternoon.” She greeted with that same touch of cockiness, she flicked her hand and a man in a black suit that looked far less expensive than her own moved across the cafe towards the counter and he heard the order for some tea, “I understand that you are the man responsible for infiltrating my government.” </p><p> </p><p>He sips his own tea and stares at her, “What of it?”</p><p> </p><p>The woman looks much younger he realises, then he first assumed, “I got a tip off of a mutual acquaintance, said she’d let me deal with you.” Her tea arrives and the same man moves to pour her a cup, “You killed C, I wasn’t exactly fond of him but <em> really? </em>Couldn’t have offed him in a much more quiet way?”</p><p> </p><p>“The way I did it was definitely quiet.”</p><p> </p><p>“You killed him in the same room as the Doctor.” Her voice was cold, she wasn’t looking at him, the idiot, but her gaze snapped upwards towards him, hands lying flat on the table, “Which means I can’t just take his job, bury him, send condolences and get on with taking care of my country… She’s expecting me to punish his murderer.” </p><p> </p><p>She leant back in her chair and raised her eyebrows. </p><p> </p><p>“And I plan to, just not in the way she thinks I will.” Her eyes sparkle, in the way he knows his own does from time to time, her hands leave the table and she connects them in a little cradle of interlocked fingers, “See, when the Doctor informed me of C’s passing, it was before your reveal, so I reinstated O as an agent of MI6… But once she told me you weren’t him, I changed the information around.” </p><p> </p><p>The Master sits up straighter, “Oh? But you don’t even know who I really am, she definitely wouldn’t have told you, at least not willingly.” </p><p> </p><p>“She didn’t need to,” Her voice remains cool as anything, “I dug around myself through old UNIT and Torchwood files, it was relatively easy to gleam <em> exactly </em>who you were once I read up on the Cyberman army from six or so years ago.” </p><p> </p><p>He pushes his cake to the side to look at her, “What exactly do you think you’ll punish me with?” </p><p> </p><p>“Easy, you are employed by the British Government, Master.” She doesn’t say it in the way it’s supposed to be said, she says it with just the slightest edge of pity, then she stands, tea laying undrunk on the table, “It’s been awhile since we’ve had a decent time traveller on staff…” </p><p> </p><p>She smiles, bright and wide, with wickedness that makes him think of his last face. </p><p> </p><p>“We’ll be in touch, stay on the planet.” </p><p> </p><p>Then she was gone, the man in the suit already out the door, but she didn’t leave that way. </p><p> </p><p>The Master assumes she was smart enough to not actually come herself. </p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em> Would it do me any good to tell you not to plan anything? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>It would not, you know that love. </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Still, I can try, I’ll stop you.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>You always- </b>
</p><p> </p><p>He stops, hitting backspace to delete the words, changing them.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Of course, you can try… But I’m unstoppable. </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> HA, as if.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He cocks his head at his phone, notes and plans in front of him forgotten. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> What do you want? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It’s a simple sentence, a simple question. </p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t know how to answer, because there is the obvious word choices he’d want to use but can’t. Then there are the more cryptic ones that would leave her questioning with a puzzle, a focus on him that he <em> craves </em>at this point. </p><p> </p><p>The Master peers down at the mobile, then sets it aside. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Fifteen Thousand, Five Hundred and Fifty-Five.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>His brain supplies the number, still counting somewhere in the back of his mind as he stands, looks at the notes and plans, the schemes he could use in deliberation of madness. </p><p> </p><p>But then, a better one comes to mind… One that would drive her <em> insane </em>to the point where she’d probably give up and just try to find him instead. </p><p> </p><p>So he taps a few buttons on his console and deletes all traces of his almost plan off of his TARDIS. </p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>He doesn’t know why he stays on Earth, he really doesn’t, he goes around and about but the sentence “Stay On Planet.” Works, though he never did get The Woman’s name. </p><p> </p><p>Somehow he thinks that was entirely intentional. </p><p> </p><p>He ends up in Hell somehow anyway, on her orders. </p><p> </p><p>“I know you are relatively territorial, it says so in your files- No, I will not provide who’s before you ask -and there’s this lovely little outcrop of people who want to destroy Britain using alien technology.” </p><p> </p><p>“What does this have to do with me?”<br/><br/>“They’re main target is the Doctor, don’t ask me how they know about her.” </p><p> </p><p>Thus, Hell, the one in Norway. </p><p> </p><p>What he finds however, it definitely cause to do something that’s not necessarily good, but definitely not evil either. </p><p> </p><p>Cages, so many it takes him a moment to count, some are empty, others are not, he knows almost immediately what lies within the ones that are filled, so he moves with a deft and light pace to his movements. </p><p> </p><p>He needed an excuse to shoot something and get angry and that bloody woman had shoved him at this mess. </p><p> </p><p>He unlocks every cage and the <em> Children </em>look at him as he barks for them to run, it only takes them a moment to comply. </p><p> </p><p>They run out of the doors three at a time, as people come yelling and shouting, aliens and humans alike… A mixture like the children had been. </p><p> </p><p>He made sure that every single prisoner was out and then… Well, he did what he did best. </p><p> </p><p><em> Chaos, </em> is a word his brain supplies, followed by <em> But no longer the same kind.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Somehow he agrees, before the images come flooding back in his head, of the plumes of smoke and fire, the ashes that lay in the dismantled Gallifrey. </p><p> </p><p>A face he doesn’t want to acknowledge he had smiles in the back of his head as it whispers the next number in the count. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Ninety-Eight Thousand, Three Hundred and Thirteen.  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>The Woman sends him on more missions like that one in Hell, she gives him things to destroy, places that are doing experiments that he no longer wants to think about. </p><p> </p><p>She’s a cold being, he realises quite quickly, at least on the surface and that she doesn’t have anything he can use against her to win his freedom. </p><p> </p><p>The Master, admits that she knows how to get him to do something, she just has to mention the Doctor, to ask him to think about how she’ll react to it all and off he goes. </p><p> </p><p>In short, he’s being manipulated and it’s working. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>I’m being manipulated. </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> You? Believable.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Now Doctor, I thought we agreed to stop flirting. </b>
</p><p> </p><p>It takes her a little longer to reply then it should, he thinks to himself. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I’m not flirting.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>A lie, she’s always liked to flirt, no matter the face, no matter the companion or pet she’s keeping. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Then what were you doing when you still thought I was O?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> That was being friendly.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>‘Kisses’? Bantering? Love, come on. </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> This is all out of context.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He laughs, he smiles, he can’t help it, it’s such a little thing but it’s so <em> Her </em>that it’s like being barely a century old again. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I could use some very rude words right now.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Please do. </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> No, I shan’t.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Shan’t? Hanging out in Ye Olde Humanity again? </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> No.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>His smile morphs into a grin, as she follows it up with another text. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Yes.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Maybe.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> What are you planning?  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>What was he planning? He hadn’t really come up with a plan for months, let alone anything more interesting then a coup for a small terrorist group that ultimately made the group falls apart, another mission. </p><p> </p><p>So, for one of the very few times in the current century, The Master tells the truth. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Nothing, dear. </b>
</p><p> </p><p>It only takes a moment, before his phone buzzes with one word. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Liar.  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em> Where are you?  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>His phone buzzes with the message, turned onto silent. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Can you tell me?  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Why should he?</p><p> </p><p><em> Look, I’m assuming you aren’t clad in irons since you’ve been sending me cat memes for five months or so, so if you would </em> kindly <em> enlighten me to your location.  </em></p><p> </p><p>His eyebrows raise. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I want to talk to you.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>What about your pets? </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Companions, I dropped them off.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>How do the moors sound? </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Which ones?  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>I haven’t been to Ireland in awhile.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> See you there.  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>She takes his breath away, a small factor he never really considered with regenerations, but hers… Oh, hers always came out beautiful in his eyes. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Three Billion…  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Every step she takes is a slow kind of torture, her hair is longer he realises, it just touches her shoulders and curves inwards in small waves.</p><p>“You look ridiculous.” He states it, to cover for the beating in his two hearts that echoes a little out of time with each other, skipping as she comes to stand in front of him, wind howling around them, her eyes are lazer focused on him and it brings that satisfaction he’s craved for as long as he can remember, she looks up at him but only slightly, “You could use a different coat.” </p><p> </p><p>Her lips purse, “It’s still better than the Nazi Uniform you wore.”<br/><br/>“Touche.” He answers and the wind picks up, ever so slightly so her hair gets in her eyes, “Why did you want to meet me, Doctor?” He draws out the syllables just to watch her twitch. </p><p> </p><p>She tilts her head, undivided attention still present still evident, “Have you turned good?” She asks, her voice is low but he still hears her. </p><p> </p><p>“NO!” He yells over the wind and takes a singular step towards her, “I HAVE NOT TURNED GOOD!”<br/><br/><em> Fourty-Five Million…  </em></p><p> </p><p>The Doctor doesn’t move, her gaze is unbreaking and it brings him joy, her form this time around as the loveliest eyes, she’s smaller too, but not breakable… His Doctor was never ever breakable, “Then why did the woman in charge of MI6 hand me all of those files a few days ago?” </p><p> </p><p>“Because she’s a bitch, who’s calling me in as a punishment.” </p><p> </p><p>“She’s been calling you into kill.” </p><p> </p><p>The Master tilts his own head at her, “Not all the time.” </p><p> </p><p>“That’s not Good.” </p><p> </p><p>“Because I’m not Good, <em> Good, </em>love… Is overrated.” He comes right up to her now, hands leaving his pockets to ball at his sides as he stares straight into her new but still so ancient eyes, “Do you remember every single time they said “For the Greater Good” at the Academy? Well, turns out they weren’t very good either.” </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Nine Hundred Thousand…  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Her face, for a moment grows harder, then gets caught between hard and soft, “What did you find?”<br/><br/>“You asked to meet me and you still don’t know… You wouldn’t believe me anyway... “ </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll believe you.” It sounds earnest enough that he almost believes her, then soft but not delicate, small hands ghost over his own, “I’ll trust you, Koischei… What did you find?” </p><p> </p><p>He thinks of it, hidden so deep within the city, he thinks of the face he’d worn when he’d found it, the secret, “They hurt them.” </p><p> </p><p>“What?” She mutters, soft as anything, she’s so close and he can feel her hearts beating but he doesn’t continue, not really as she opens her mouth to speak again and instead he surges forwards. </p><p> </p><p>He kisses her, softly at first, then his anger rises as he forges the connection between them and the tears they come running down his cheeks as he doesn’t tell her… </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Four Hundred…  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Shows her everything, pours it all into her brain, as he presses into the kiss and to his surprise, she presses back more throughedly then him, pulling back for only a moment to push upwards towards him again. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> And Thirteen.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>When he pulls away he asks her, softly in her ear just one thing… </p><p> </p><p>“Did you count too?” </p>
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